Healing and Hurting
by stubliminalmessaging
Summary: There's a fine line between healing and hurting and quite honestly... for Medic, sometimes the two blur together. Rape, light necro. Pretty violent. Would rate it MA if I could.
1. Chapter 1

"Zhere is a vay ve do zhese zhings, mein Sniper. Und zhat vay is any vay but yours." Sniper's hands on Medic's jacket were promptly swatted away, and he smoothed out the crisp white material where Sniper's hands had upset it. These hands shot out again and groped at Medic's hips, pulling the man closer.

With barely so much as a twitch in warning, Medic's right hand came up to deliver a swift backhand to Sniper's cheek. The Aussie released his grip and stumbled back one step due to the impact.

Quickly enough, the marksman had recovered and was back on the doctor again. Medic was pushed back so far that the backs of his thighs were pressed against the edge of his desk.

"C'mere, ya mongrel," Sniper snarled, hands coming up to rip open Medic's jacket, buttons going flying in all directions. His eager hands found the German's red tie, yanking on it and pulling his head closer.

Sniper practically devoured Medic's mouth, biting and pulling on his lower lip. It wasn't until Sniper's tongue plunged in to mercilessly plunder the man's mouth that Medic reciprocated. He chomped down on the bushman's tongue, until he tasted blood, and the man yelped and leapt back.

He stood at a bit of a distance from Medic, who took a step away from his desk. He straightened his tie and jacket with the utmost military efficiency. He brought his ungloved right hand up to push his glasses back up his nose and regarded Sniper with a chilled, almost bored stare.

Despite have just been smacked in the face and having his tongue bitten down on, Sniper was nothing but eerie grins. Medic watched as Sniper's injured tongue slithered out, swiping over his dry lips and wetting them with saliva. Blood stained them crimson.

"C'mon, mate. Don't be like that." He crept closer to Medic again, but the German stood his ground. He stared into Sniper's eyes, though he was impaired by Sniper's sunglasses.

"I know you bin wantin' this just as bad as me, luv." He pressed himself against Medic once more, placing both his hands on the desk behind the doctor, effectively trapping him there. He leaned in close to the man, close enough to nip at his ear. "Bin itchin' fer it all week, roight doctah?"

His hands went to the doctor's coat again, pulling it open. Nimble fingers made quick work of the Medic's belt. He then unfastened the man's pants, then yanked them down his hips. They bunched up around his knees, and Sniper needed to change that. He squatted down on the floor and went to work on undoing and pulling off Medic's heavy leather boots.

Before Sniper could see it coming, Medic's hands shot out and fisted themselves as best they could in Sniper's short brown hair. Sniper's eyebrows rose in surprise, and he tilted his head up curiously.

"Wot?"

He was promptly answered by Medic's knee bashing into his face. He tumbled backwards, falling onto his ass on the cold white something-like-linoleum floor of the medical bay. His glasses flew off and fell to the floor with a clatter. Flecks of piss-yellow glass littered the floor where the shades had shattered.

Sniper's hands covered his face as he nursed his bleeding, probably broken nose. Blood spilled down his face and between his fingers. It ran down his chin and neck to get soaked into his red shirt. Wayward droplets marred the perfect white shine of the polished floor where they splattered, but Sniper didn't have time to notice it or to care.

Medic grabbed Sniper roughly by the shoulders and lifted him up, tossing him at his desk. The lanky Aussie crashed onto the surface of the desk, letting out a shout. All of a sudden, Medic was standing over him, unbuckling his belt and yanking open his trousers.

Sniper gave a very low growl, and made a move to sit up. He finally managed to brace his hands on the paper-strewn desk and pushed his torso up. Before he even had a chance to get his bearings, Medic delivered another punch to Sniper's cheek. Sniper's head snapped back, his Adam's apple trembling violently with his frenzied breathing.

When he tilted his head back up, Medic took in the damage that he had done without so much as a cringe. His bony knuckles had ripped open the skin of Sniper's cheek, and what wasn't bleeding and torn was gradually turning purple. His left eye was swelling to the point where he was having trouble opening it.

"Medic," he hissed, making another effort to sit up. His voice came out slurred. Probably a combination of blood washing back into his throat from his nose and the nose itself. "Wot t'fuckin' 'ell, mate?"

Medic's hands closed themselves around the Sniper's throat. They squeezed, and the Aussie flailed around a bit. He clawed at the hands that restricted his breathing, but his struggles weakened as his energy drained rapidly. He was barely breathing.

"Gut. Cease zhe struggling, mein Sniper. It is mein hope zhat you are comfortable. Ve are juzt getting started."

STAY TUNED FOR PART II.


	2. Chapter 2

"D-don' fool aroun', mate." Sniper choked. He turned his head to the left and gave a shoulder-shaking cough, spitting mouthfuls of blood onto that oh-so-clean white floor. He collapsed there, his struggles weakening every second. The tendons in his neck were popping, straining under Medic's powerful hand.

Once Sniper had settled down, Medic released his hold on the Australian's throat. The man's breathing automatically quickened, heaved breaths loud in the sterile environment of the medical ward. He guzzled down precious oxygen frantically, gasping out mixed curses and thank yous.

Before Sniper could ask 'wot th'fuck wassat about?' Medic grabbed him by his narrow hips and flipped him over face-down. Sniper let out a hoarse shout of protest and tried to push himself up and off the desk. Medic promptly took him by the back of the head, fingers gripping at his coarse dark hair. Sniper's skull smacked off the table with a sickening crack, and he choked on a sob. Tears diluted the blood that now stained the papers and folders on Medic's desk.

"You are making a mess." Medic stated, gazing down at the Australian and the desk with a look of distaste. "I vill not be zhe one cleaning zhis up, Herr Sniper."

Sniper offered no reply, instead lying on the desk motionlessly. Medic's hands came down to Sniper's hips. He gripped the marksman's trousers and yanked them down. Being not very fond of doing laundry or taking showers, Sniper had gotten into the habit of wearing no underwear. It's what he had done while working his last job back in Australia, and he saw no reason to change his habits. Suddenly, though, he regretted it. Underwear could have been one more crucial layer to hinder the Medic's progress.

Sniper began to speak again, unintelligible through his sobs and bloody nose. As he made the slurred noises, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Medic gripped him hard by a booted ankle and pulled Sniper's leg back. The man went crashing down onto the desk once again now that his knee was no longer supporting him. He growled out a slew of muffled curses and he froze when he felt Medic's hands on his bare hips, pulling up.

A light elastic slapping noise was heard as Medic tugged down his standard issue red boxer briefs. This noise shocked Sniper back into action. He began to thrash frantically, limbs flailing and hands scrabbling desperately for purchase on the edge of the table. Finally, his fingers found the edge of the desk, using it as leverage to try and push himself up. His shouts and curses are slurred and incomprehensible. They are also loud. They sound suspiciously like an attention-drawer in Medic's opinion. Anyone who heard that screaming would get curious and come looking. Medic couldn't have anyone barging in and interrupting this.

A crack to the side of the head with Medic's fist silenced the Australian, and another smack of his face against the desk leaves him choking on his own blood as he tries to cry. His body jerks forward and he lets out a little yelp as Medic's hand comes down hard on his ass, leaving an angry red mark. His hips are then gripped, bruisingly so, by the doctor's strong hands. A scream tears forth as the German pulls him back hard by the hips, impaling the Sniper on his erection. Medic's cock is thick and full and Sniper screams and writhes as if every little twitch of it inside him was tearing him apart.

He kicks his legs frantically, trying with all his might to do something, anything in retaliation. All that his struggles earned him was his torso and face shoved hard against the desk as Medic pumps his hips to push in deeply.

Sniper feels as if he's about to be ripped in half. The howls of agony are riddled with curses and sobs and pleas for someone to help him. It is a wonder that none of their team members are hearing him. His voice breaks frequently, and hope seems lost as his protests turn hoarse as a result of his tortured vocal chords.

Medic knows that he cannot continue this for much longer. Sniper's screams will ultimately attract someone's attention. He does not want to have to face the wrath of his mutinous team. He does not want to face the heartbroken Heavy, who would not understand why doctor would do such thing, for doctor is good. Spy would've been absolutely murderous upon seeing his lover beaten and broken and violated in such a way. The rest of the team would act concerned, but really they'd be thankful that it hadn't been them.

Yes, time for this little encounter was steadily running out of its metaphorical hourglass. The movement of Medic's hips paused and everything was silent for a moment. Even Sniper's cries died down with how overworked his throat was. The only noise that followed was a gurgling, dwindling whine.

The swift slice that Medic had delivered to the man's throat caused him to give another body-twitch. Tendons and chords in his neck severed, and everything that he had spilled forth from him and flooded the desk. It overflowed onto the white tile floor.

Though his desk was a mess and he was balls-deep in a still-warm corpse, Medic let out a half-moan half-hiss. Until this point, his face had been blank. Like an emotionless statue, he remained stoic and indifferent. Slowly, as he began to thrust his hips again, his face ripped open in a grin. Ear-to-ear his smile widened and he continued to moan and gasp through that gritted grin.

His hips keep pumping and his noises steadily increase in volume. By the time he lets himself go in Sniper's rapidly-cooling body, he is clawing desperately at the dead Aussie's hips and howling out his pleasure. When he pulls out, cum and blood leak down Sniper's thighs, soaking into the material of his pants.

Medic wipes himself off on Sniper's shirt, staining the red material lighter with pink cum-blood residue. Once he is clean, he tucks himself back into his boxer-briefs and fixes his pants. Sniper's body is then picked up by respawn. It fades from existence, leaving only the blood around the desk, the bushman's hat, and his shattered sunglasses as a reminder to the silence of the room of what had just happened.

Moments later, the door to the ward opened swiftly, slamming against the adjacent wall. Looking positively spooked and holding his kukri at his side in a tense hand, Sniper prowled into the room. His posture and movements were guarded, as if he expected the Medic to jump out from one of the shadowless corners of the room and rape and kill him again.

The lack of the German in the room only unnerves him more. He is unfazed by the blood pooled on and around the desk, and he only gives a small growl of disappointment when he finds his glasses shattered on the floor.

He freezes when he registers a scent lingering on the air. The room should smell like blood and sex and medicine, but it is overpowered by this other scent. One that means worse things than that his lover had just raped and killed him.

"Fuckin' Spois..." He mumbled, his nose crinkling at the cigarette smoke. He went to the corner of the room behind Medic's trashed desk and bent to retrieve his hat from where it had fallen. He only had one of these at a time, after all, and it didn't reappear if he wasn't wearing it when he respawned. He straightened up and placed the hat back on his head. Taking a glance at the sorry pile of piss-yellow glass on the floor, he made a mental note to place an order for a new pair of sunglasses next time he had the chance. Couldn't snipe very well with the merciless desert sun glaring him in the face all hours of the day.

First, though, he had a Spy to hunt down and slice open. He smirked, gripping his kukri a bit tighter, knuckles going white. Fucking frog's guts'll look real pretty cut out of 'im and spread all over the place like party streamers.

THIS IS THE END.


End file.
